Only the Good Die Young
by SilverTurtle
Summary: Death is her gift. She must sacrifice herself to save the world. Companion piece to "NF: When Stones Speak".


**A/N:** _This is connected to Buffy-verse and my story "__**NF: When Stones Speak**__". This is the story the temple was built on. Sprang forth from the prompt 'Feral'. _

**Warning:** _Violence, blood, and death. _

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**ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG**

She's wounded. Bleeding swathes of red across the lush greenery as she chases her natural enemy on unsteady feet, intent on killing them before they reach the village.

She'd already slain thirty of the creatures earlier in the night. The swarm had drawn her attention as soon as night fell and she'd rushed to prevent them from doing any harm. She'd been mostly successful as the only harm suffered on this night was suffered by her. The gaping hole in her side testament to her duties, proof of her work.

Rushing headlong and alone into the midst of so many foes had been a suicide run. She'd known she wouldn't end this night alive and she'd accepted her fate. The monsters had to be stopped and she had to be the one to do it. She was the only one who could. When she'd felt them gathering she knew they'd been planning something, something terrible, and she'd been right.

The thirty she'd already slain had been just a distraction. A draw for her senses keeping her from noticing the lonely three heading to the door to hell nestled in the heart of the village. But she'd noticed them now and she had to hurry if she was going to prevent them from achieving their goals.

Blood loss made her lightheaded and shaky on her feet, but she pushed through it running harder just to prove to herself that she still could. The fate of the world rested on her shoulders and her shoulders alone. Reminding herself of that all important truth she clutched her tomahawk and spear tighter and charged through the jungle.

Nearly there now. She was breathing heavily. Her vision was blurry, sweat and blood running into her eyes. Her legs felt so heavy, like they were giant stones attached to her hips. Her arms were weak and tired. She couldn't feel her feet anymore. Still she ran.

She burst into the village, breaking through the perimeter erected expressly to keep her away from sensitive villagers unappreciative of the service she did them. The monsters were already at the mouth of hell. They'd torn a girl-child from her hut and slit her throat. Her blood ran into the grooves of the seal and the malevolent thing pulsed with new life.

She crashed into the one holding the girl's corpse, her spear pushing through his chest and turning him to dust. The girl's body thudded to the ground, going cold already. The other two turned on her, leapt for her, and tried to drag her to the ground. Their hands clawed at her, scratched her, wounded her further, but she kept her feet and fought back. Soon they were both so much dust in the wind.

But she was too late.

She'd been too late to save the girl and now too late to prevent the Hellmouth from opening.

She released a piercing war cry, her ululation ringing into the night and rousing all the villagers from their huts, a warning and a promise.

When the villagers saw the glowing portal begin to crack, their seals crumbling and the reaching arms of demons from below, they fled. She'd cried out to make sure they fled. She did not want any more to die here tonight.

The four wisemen, witchdoctors, stayed. They formed a square around the portal, one each standing in the four directional corners. North, South, East, West. They began to chant. They could not close the portal, not now that it had begun to open, but they could create a new seal as long as the monsters didn't manage to kill them before they could achieve it.

She knew she would die here tonight to protect them. To protect the people that had cast her out. To protect the world from burning. She stepped within the bounds of the new seal. None of the wisemen held her back. They knew her duty as well as she, better for they had taught it to her. She would sacrifice herself willingly to make sure her people lived and the world survived.

She was already pouring her lifeblood upon the ground. The scent would be an irresistible lure to the creatures from below. She gripped her weapons more tightly, blood seeping between the cracks of her fingers, and set her jaw.

She did not want to die. She was afraid. Terrified of what could come after, if there was an after. She might not particularly enjoy her life but she felt it was better to be alive than to be dead. She knew her absence would likely be a relief to her people, they would no longer have to feed her or clothe her or resent her for attracting the monsters to their homes (the reason she'd been forced out and the perimeter created). Much as she wished her life had been different, and she did wish it had been different, she did not want to lose it. Even so she took a deep breath and swung her weapon at the first monster to crawl out of the earth.

It went down quickly. More came. An endless stream of them vying for entrance into her world.

She hoped the wisemen chanted fast. She was already wounded and weakening with every breath. But she forced herself to continue, their steady droning setting her rhythm for the fight.

More enemies came and she beat them back. The weaker she grew the more feral she became. No technique to her fighting now. Bludgeon, stab, bite, claw, gouge, tear, rip, bash, on and on and on. She lost herself in the fight. Not feeling when blows were landed against her. Not feeling when her arm was nearly severed. Not feeling her eye torn from its socket. Not feeling the teeth embedded in her neck. She raged and unleashed the full wrath of the Slayer, hacking and slashing, felling enemies all around her. On and on she went, never stopping. She would choke the Hellmouth with the bodies of its children. None would get past her. Not while she had any strength left in her body.

She kept going, a haze of red over her vision, blood coating her every part as she roared and screamed and slayed. The ground became a morass of gore, her own blood adding to the muddy turf. She lost her spear, now her sharpened club was her only weapon. She laid about her with the thing, crushing skulls and breaking limbs, destroying every creature in her path. Until finally, finally, the hole was filled with broken and dying creatures still scrambling to pull themselves through.

She stood on weak legs, holding herself up by sheer force of will, staring down at them. She looked around and saw the wisemen finish laying their symbols in the ground. The new seal was complete. She knew without checking that she would not be able to cross out of the boundary as she'd stepped into it.

She would die here just as they'd planned together the last time she'd been gravely wounded protecting the Hellmouth. She was already dying, her wounds so severe that she would never recover even with healing spells. But she would not go quietly. She would seal this Hellmouth forever. Let Hell have a taste of the strength of the world above. Let it be dealt a mortal blow. She tipped her head back gave the war-cry of her people. The sound bouncing heavy and thick and sharp into the night. The wisemen did her great honor by taking up her cry.

With their voices still ringing in her ears she threw herself forward, diving into the abyss and taking all the demons with her.

She landed with the corpses of the demons on hard burning rock. Her spine broken on impact, her ribs turned into spikes within her. She chuckled grimly as blood spilled from between her lips. She would be dead in mere moments.

But she looked up with her one remaining eye and saw the earth close above her. She'd completed her task. The world would survive, the next Slayer would be Called, and life would move on. Cold comfort to the dying but comfort all the same.

She closed her eye and let the darkness claim her. Her last breath rattled out of her punctured lungs and she smiled. Finally at peace.

**THE END**

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**A/N:** _What is wrong with me? I am so depressing lately! What did you think?_


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